


Moments Outside Time

by icarus_chained



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Awkward Conversations, Empathy, Exhaustion, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Insomnia, Morning After, Multi, Partnership, Team, Teasing, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Martin a few minutes to realise what he's feeling, what Jefferson is doing, and who apparently Jefferson is doing it <i>with</i>. Once he does, however, it leads to a long, sleepless night trying (rather too successfully) to distract himself from it, and then a rather grumpy morning after for himself and anyone unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity. Jefferson emerging later like a ray of satisfied sunshine certainly doesn't help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments Outside Time

**Author's Note:**

> A very random bit of Firestorm fluff and nonsense, because I was in the mood for it.

It took Martin a rather shamefully long time to realise what it was that he was feeling from his partner. It wasn't ... He hadn't really had a reference point for it from Jefferson. In all their time together, it had never come up. For the first few bewildered minutes, he sat there at the Waverider's kitchen counter wondering vaguely if his partner had come down with a very sudden fever, as well as pins and needles and a few other odd sensations from various locations around his body. Not uncomfortable, as such, indeed rather opposite, but quite intense.

Then a fragment of a memory floated up, echoes of a similar sensation, not from Jefferson but from _Ronald_ , Ronald who'd had a fiancé and very briefly a wife, and Martin abruptly coughed tea all over a very fine proof. Oh, good _grief_. What ... _Who_? They were in the middle of the time stream, who on earth ...?

Or, well, who on the ship, rather. And god, on a list of things he hadn't wanted to know ...

"Gideon?" he asked, after a long, hesitant second. His voice was a little rough, consequence of hacking up half a cup of tea, and came out in rather more of a squeak than he would have liked. Consequence of something else altogether. "Ah. Please ... Please don't disturb them, but could you, um. Could you tell me where Jefferson is? I had thought ... I had thought he was playing cards with Ms Lance and Mr Snart."

"He was, Professor," Gideon answered with cheerful promptness. "He's still with them, though they would appear not to be playing cards any longer. They are--"

"Yes, I know very well what they are!" Martin interrupted hastily. Coughing to himself again as Gideon went primly silent, wondering vaguely just how red he'd gone. Yes, thank you, he had a very clear idea just what they were indeed. 

Though ... both? Lance _and_ Snart? For heaven's sake, Jefferson. There was such a thing as moderation, you know. 

Martin shook himself firmly. Oh, not the point. Never mind, not the point. Get your mind out of the gutter and _well away_ , old man. Some things were most definitely not your business. Jefferson seemed to be ... That was, he seemed to be quite happily engaged. No ... No sensation of fear or reluctance, no indication that his present occupation was anything but cheerfully embraced on his part. Nothing untoward going on, and no reason _whatsoever_ for Martin to be paying any more attention to it. He'd managed as much with Ronald, after all, and presumably vice versa. There were ways and means to drown such things out.

"Ms, ah, Ms Gideon? Would you mind clearing a few screens for me down in the lab? I will be ... I shall be doing some calculations for the rest of the evening. Possibly the night. You don't mind, do you?"

He'd been standing hastily even as he said it, gathering his now rather sodden proofs up as he went. He wasn't entirely certain, but he had a vague idea that the AI was laughing silently at him as she said "Certainly, Professor" in her usual calm, prim tones. 

Though, to be fair, he couldn't entirely blame her if she was.

***

'Morning', such as it was on the ship, rolled rather blearily and grittily around some hours later. That wasn't Jefferson's fault. At some point during the night, focusing as strongly as he was to avoid other things, Martin had gotten caught up in the mathematics in truth and had rather lost track time. Jefferson and his ... companions had presumably fallen asleep somewhere in there, though whether together or not he couldn't have told anyone. He had a vague notion that it had been together, if only for the lack of disruption, but given that he'd been trying to graph temporal vectors in the midst of mild heckling from Gideon at the time, he most certainly could not have sworn to it. It was hardly his business either way.

He couldn't quite help the twinge of curiosity when he felt Jefferson start to awaken, though. It was voyeuristic in the extreme, and completely out of order, but he couldn't _quite_ help the little slant of attention he sent his partner's way. Just to check on Jefferson's health and peace of mind, he told himself. Just to make sure the boy wasn't shocked or overcome with regret or anything. 

Yes, thank you, he was aware that as excuses went that one was rather pathetic.

The initial sensation was of warmth and laziness, a slow stretch of body and mind as consciousness came online. There were some physical twinges, little aches and discomforts, but nothing serious. And then ... oh. Then satisfaction, warm and happy, and a rush of something deeply tender as something caught Jefferson's attention. Not ... not love, as such, Martin didn't think so, but a well of something warm and awed and compassionate. Tender, that was the word, something gentle and sweet and amazed. Martin closed his eyes, coiled himself back inside his own head with considerable care and some haste. Ignoring the twinge in his own chest, the rush of a rather desperate admiration. Oh Jefferson. But no, no. It was none of his business. Such things, such delicate things as that, deserved to be private.

He scrubbed his hands across his face, pulling off his glasses briefly and mauling it with his palms a bit in an attempt to wake up again. His eyes stung, and his back ached with a passion. He was too old for all-nighters anymore, by several decades. You'd think he'd have figured that out by now. Still. Not much point in trying to go to bed now. He'd just have to hope that they wouldn't end up fighting for their lives or doing anything that required too much physical activity or mental acuity today. At least not from him. Maybe he could claim a bad back day. They were flying a _time machine_ , for crying out loud, they could afford a day off. He'd have a word with Captain Hunter about it. A _strenuous_ word. He was in no mood today for ... well. Much of anything at all, really.

Coffee, he decided. Coffee first. Captains and arguments and everything else later. He asked Gideon to file their results before he left the lab. He thought he could still hear a touch of humour in her voice as she agreed, but that could have been the exhaustion talking.

He bumped into Mick Rory on the way back to the galley. Quite literally, walking face first into the man's chest and almost bouncing off him onto the floor in the process. Rory shot out both arms and caught him handily, squinting down at him in some bemusement and a surprising dearth of aggravation. Martin blinked back at him, and offered a stammering sort of apology.

"No problem," Rory dismissed, a low, laconic growl. "You okay there? You look like you went a round with somebody and lost."

Martin chuckled faintly. "I'm fine," he said. "I went a round with temporal physics, that's all, or rather several rounds, and I'd like to think we drew in the end. No matter what Gideon might tell you. Don't listen to her. She may have the advantage of me, but I'm certainly no slouch when it comes to temporal mathematics."

Rory's eyebrows trekked idly up his forehead, but he didn't actually answer that as it probably deserved. He propped Martin gently back onto his feet instead, brushed at his sleeves. "Temporal mathematics give you the black eye?" he asked lightly, as he ... fussed, practically, setting Martin back to rights. Martin stared at him, entirely bemused, and Rory touched a thumb gently to Martin's left cheek, just under his glasses. Martin's hand flew up, pressed against it himself. There was a small twinge of a nascent bruise, all right.

"... Ah. No?" he said, more than a little uncertainly. "I think ... I rather suspect that was me. I think, anyway. I was trying to wake up earlier. I must have ... pressed a little harder than I thought."

Rory stared at him. "You punch yourself in the face to try and wake up?" he asked incredulously. Which, all right. That did sound a little ... odd. Fair enough.

"I didn't punch myself in the face," Martin grumbled, tugging irritably at his sweater. "I was just ... I was rubbing at my eyes, and-- Oh, never mind. I didn't punch myself in the face, all right? I was just ... waking up. Back up. Not that I slept in the first place. I'm fine, okay? I'm ... perfectly fine. It was just a long night."

"... I can see that," Rory agreed, with careful, exacerbated seriousness. Placating. Martin growled fitfully at him, and the man very obviously refrained from laughing at him. He took a step to one side, instead, put a careful hand around Martin's shoulder and steered him gently down the corridor. "You know what? How 'bout we get you something with caffeine in it, champ. Least that way, the next time you pick a fight with your face you're gonna be awake for it."

"That _was_ my intention," Martin told him grumpily, meaning the caffeine and not the fight, but he allowed himself to steered onwards in spite of Rory's chuckle of agreement. The man was being very gentle, after all. Rather considerate, really. Almost as though he had an idea of _why_ it had been a long night, which wasn't necessarily a comfortable thought, maybe, but ... no harm in carrying along with it, really. No harm in letting the man be nice, or as nice as he ever got.

And, honestly? Given that he had practically tripped over the man, Martin could probably use the help.

***

Of the three ... the three _card players_ , it was Jefferson who perhaps unsurprisingly stumbled across Martin first. He ambled into the kitchen while Martin was on his fourth cup of coffee and growling fitfully at himself and Rory and Gideon and anything else that came in range. Rory seemed to be taking great amusement from this, prodding Martin along whenever he might have stopped himself. Martin would be annoyed about that, but it was a) too much effort, and b) rather soothing to be allowed to hiss and grumble as much as he wanted. Ray Palmer had come in at some point as well, perching himself at the far end of the counter and watching them with wide, startled eyes. Martin was ignoring him. Captain Hunter had been by very briefly, but he'd taken one look at Martin's face and Rory's smirk, grabbed himself some coffee in the first container that came to hand, and hastily removed himself again.

Well and good, Martin thought. He was saving up for that argument later about a day off. He needed to work up to that.

Jefferson wandered in like a ray of light and sunshine. Martin could feel him coming from all the way down the corridor, a swaggering bundle of joy and satisfaction and general good will towards all the world, and for one intense moment gave serious thought to drowning himself in his coffee mug before the boy could reach him. No. Just ... no. It was far too early in the morning for Martin to deal with that. And yes, his lack of sleep wasn't Jefferson's fault, he'd acknowledged that, but he honestly wasn't sure he'd be able to _remember_ it when faced with a smug, cheerful, well-rested and well-satisfied young man.

At least Ronald had never been cooped up in a tiny, incestuous little ship with him. There'd been a whole city to avoid Ronald in. Five feet away on the morning after really was too much.

Jefferson realised that the second he walked into the room and caught sight of Martin's face. Martin couldn't help the little flinch, the flare of guilt and exhaustion and annoyed knowledge of just exactly what Jefferson was feeling and _why_ , and Jefferson caught it right that second. Realised what it must have come from a second later, put 'night of romance' and 'empathic bond' together in his head, and immediately came to the most mortifying and only-partially-accurate conclusion. The boy stopped dead in the doorway, staring at Martin in open horror, and for his part Martin could only stare mutely back at him.

"... Ah _shit_ ," Jefferson whispered. "Oh my god, Grey, you ... you _felt_ ... You were feeling that? All of ... You were _feeling_ that?"

"Okay!" Palmer said, looking between them and obviously drawing at least some of the correct conclusions. The inventor leapt hastily to his feet, looking uncertainly at Rory for a second as though contemplating dragging him up too. Rory stared placidly at him, daring him to try it, and Palmer shook his head and started sidling hurriedly out of the room. "Private conversation. Got it. I'll, ah. I go have my coffee with Kendra, yeah?"

"Yeah, you do that," Rory drawled, watching him go with a faint smirk. "Wanna keep your nose out of other people's business, huh?" Palmer paused at that. Looked at him a little oddly.

"You don't think you ought to do the same?" he asked leadingly, looking between a mute Martin and a still-horrified Jefferson before looking pointedly back at Rory. Rory just shrugged.

"Free kitchen," was all he said. "And I've a pretty good idea what this is about, anyway. I know where my partner was and wasn't last night. Not hard to connect the dots."

"Oh my _god_ ," Jefferson whispered again, now horrified for another reason entirely. Rory chuckled at him lightly.

"Ain't the biggest ship in the world, kid," he pointed out. "Might not have a psychic connection to my partner or anything, but three people end up in one room and none of 'em come out of it 'til morning, it ain't exactly hard to figure what they've been doing. If you were hoping for something _secret_ , you're probably gonna be disappointed."

Jefferson looked, and felt, about ready to try and be swallowed up by the floor at that. That joy and happiness in his chest had been tamped all the way down, shock and embarrassment at Rory and Martin between them having damped it out, and despite himself, despite his well-deserved grumpiness, Martin felt a twinge of guilt and unhappiness at that. Jefferson hadn't deserved it. He hadn't hurt anyone. He deserved to hold onto his happiness a little longer.

So, to that end ...

"Be that as it may, Mr Rory," Martin heard himself say, the tone clipped and stern, for all that Martin ought to still be grateful to the man. Rory looked around at him slowly. It wasn't anger or disappointment in his eyes, though. It was amusement still, and a wry sort of knowing. Martin felt himself soften instinctively, his shoulders loosening and his tone becoming gentler and more conciliatory. "Please. I apologise for disrupting your breakfast, but would you mind giving _my_ partner and I a few moments alone? I would rather like to get this sorted out, if it isn't too much trouble." 

Rory visibly thought about it. Wondering how much further he wanted to poke at them, wondering if it would be worth his time. Martin only looked at him, though, and Jefferson's face was so eloquent in itself. Rory looked between them one more time, the unhappiness in Jefferson's expression, and visibly softened himself. He stood up, carefully and quietly, and went to join Palmer in the doorway.

"Don't take all day," he said, a faint smirk on his face. "Rest of us gotta eat sometime too."

"I'll keep that in mind," Martin informed him, inclining his head gratefully. "Thank you, Mr Rory. For the, ah. For the assistance in getting here as well."

Rory snorted at him. "Don't mention it," he said, and turned to grab Palmer by the elbow and hustle him out the door. They vanished down the hallway, Palmer's protests of being the first one willing to move trailing after them.

Which left only Martin and Jefferson and their mutual mortified embarrassment behind.

"... Jefferson," Martin started, but his partner shook his head, stumbling over to sit himself dazedly down beside him. Martin blinked at him a bit. Even four cups on, his head still felt a little stretched and fuzzy yet.

"I forgot," Jefferson said dazedly. "How do you _forget_ something like that? How do you forget that there's an old man in your head listening to you ... _Shit_. How does somebody just up and forget something like that?"

Martin bristled a bit. "In the first place," he said grouchily, "less of the 'old', particularly in that ... that tone of voice. The fact that I'm over sixty has no bearing whatsoever on our current circumstances. And in the second place, I wasn't listening. I'm not a peeping tom, thank you very much. I do have _some_ sense of propriety, and enough common sense to realise when to apply it. I blocked your end of our connection out, as much as that is possible between us, and I made sure I was distracted. You needn't worry for your-- You needn't worry. I am not _completely_ without scruple."

There was a sharp sense of hurt in that, one which he was too tired to really suppress, and a tinge of guilt as well. A quiet voice in the back of his head pointed out quietly that there'd been a moment or two, hadn't there, where he'd paid more attention than he ought. It hadn't been to _that_ , though. He hadn't intruded on that, only on the aftermath. He was not a voyeur, towards either Jefferson or Ronald. He had more respect for them, indeed for their partners and for _anyone_ , than that.

Jefferson flinched a bit beside him. Martin felt it, felt the guilt and the shame on top of the embarrassment, and abruptly hated himself not a little bit. He remembered what Jefferson had felt like waking up. He remembered that happy and gentle thing, and knew a moment of rather virulent loathing for his own irritability.

"... Jefferson," he started again, turning to face the young man properly. Jefferson looked at him, his expression nothing but hesitance and confusion and a young man waiting to be yelled at. Martin grimaced faintly. He leaned over and nudged his partner's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I've been ... It's been a long night and I'm not really awake yet. I know it was legitimate concern, to be worried for your privacy and those of your partners, and a shock to realise that you'd forgotten to consider it before. I promise you, all right? I learned how to do this with Ronald and Caitlin. I promise that as soon as I realised what was happening, I made certain not to intrude upon you. You may ask Gideon, if you wish. She and I have been otherwise engaged for most of the night."

He felt Jefferson assimilate that. He felt his partner take that in, break it down and let it dissolve the unhappy knot inside of him. He also felt the young man trying to gauge Martin's sincerity in turn. When they were both focused on it, it was very difficult to lie to each other. Distraction or high emotion was usually required. In the quiet, with nothing to listen to but the sense of each other in their heads, it was easy enough to judge the truth emanating across the bond. Jefferson relaxed, after a second. He smiled sheepishly over at him.

"That why you look so rough?" he asked wryly. "You been up all night trying to avoid feeling what I was doin' inside your head?"

Martin grimaced, but shook his head. "That isn't your fault," he said, looking down into the dregs of his coffee in self-admonishment. "It may have started that way, but the fact I didn't sleep is nobody's fault but my own. I got caught up and lost track of time. In future, you might remind me not to pick a fight over temporal calculations with a _timeship AI_ , by the way. Apparently it never ends well."

"I wouldn't call it a fight, Professor," Gideon piped up cheerfully. "I thought of it more as an education. I'm sure we both learned quite a lot from the past few hours."

Martin glared up at the ceiling. "Smugness ill becomes you, madam," he growled, pointedly ignoring Jefferson as he curled a hand in front of his smile. "I'll have you know I'm a very quick study. I'll be your equal in no time, mark my words."

"I look forward to it, Professor," the AI answered smartly, and with every apparent sincerity. "Between your theoretical knowledge and your partner's mechanical know-how, I'm sure I will feel in much better hands in no time. Such things are always useful in an emergency, and we are encountering those with rather more frequency of late."

Martin blinked. That ... Oh. Yes, that ... did make sense. Perhaps the lady really _was_ being genuine then. Well. All right, then.

He glanced sideways to find Jefferson smiling fondly at him, a deep, peaceful sensation in the young man's chest. Martin could feel it, could almost bask in it. It was ... different, of course, but in many ways not so far away from what his partner had felt that morning, looking presumably at his lovers. Something warm and gentle, a simple happiness at the world and a delight that whoever he was looking at was in it. God, but the boy did have a gentle soul, didn't he? One of the brightest, most gentle things in all creation.

"You had an interesting night then, huh?" Jefferson asked, still smiling at him. Martin looked away, pushing at his glasses distractedly.

"Not as much as you had," he noted mildly. "I, ah. Questions of propriety aside, I will admit to some ... surprise. Part of the reason I was so ill-prepared was that I honestly thought you were going there to play cards. I had no idea you felt that way for either of them. If I had I might have been a ... a bit less discombobulated, shall we say."

Jefferson grimaced a bit himself, drawing the corners of his mouth down sheepishly. "Yeah, well," he said, looking away and scratching at his neck. "That's 'cause I kinda didn't know it either. I _did_ go there to play cards. It was just ... We got talking about things, and I was talking about how I hadn't really been with someone since my knee got tore up, and ... I'm not even sure what happened exactly, but I think Sara kissed me for maybe a joke sort of thing, and then Len did, and then suddenly it wasn't a joke anymore and ... Well. Things happened, yeah? Got caught up in it all, and things happened. I think it was just something we all needed just then, you know?"

Martin coughed gently. "I ... have an idea," he said, a little distantly, and Jefferson looked back around at him in startled horror once more. Martin shook his head hurriedly. "I _wasn't listening_ ," he said firmly. "I truly wasn't, Jefferson. But, ah. It ... took me a few moments to figure out what was happening. I ... I did get the gist of your feelings around then, yes."

Jefferson stared at him, a truly unmatchable expression on his face. "That is wrong in so many ways, man," he said faintly, and Martin had no choice but to nod. His partner wasn't wrong, after all. Not even slightly. 

"Yes, well. I do apologise, my boy," he said tiredly. "I will be better prepared in future, if you should intend to extend your ... Ah. It is a relationship, is it?"

Jefferson glanced down, his expression warring between offense and something else at that. Confusion, maybe, or concern. "... Not sure yet," he said eventually. "'Bout any of it, really. Haven't really talked too much yet. You, um. You gonna be okay with it, though? If it does turn out ... you know, if it goes a bit longer? You're not going to be ... weird about it or anything?"

Martin blinked at him. "Weird about what?" he asked. "You having a relationship?"

Jefferson winced. "Yeah, that," he said uneasily. "I was thinking more, are you gonna be weird about my having a relationship with _them_. You know. Teammates? Two of them? One of 'em being a dude? You're okay with all that, are you?"

It ... took Martin a second to answer that. Lack of sleep, not firing on all cylinders. It took him a second to muster a response.

"Jefferson," he started, then stopped again to rearrange things. "I can feel you inside my head. Ronald and I were merged into one form for the better part of a year. I have been disintegrated, reformed, and fused with both a matrix and a variety of people both male and female. I have been kidnapped and tortured, I have seen any number of both incredible and horrifying things, and I am currently sitting sleep-deprived on a time-travelling spaceship in a river of time. I assure you, if I was ever concerned over such things, we are rather far past that point now. I don't care who it is you find happiness with, or even more temporary companionship. I only care that you _are_ happy. And, well. Also that none of you kill each other or anyone else in our sleep, of course. The teammates thing is perhaps something of a concern. If you do have a falling out, try to keep the collateral damage to a minimum, won't you?"

Jefferson stared at him for a very long moment there. "... I'll do that," he said, slowly and carefully and a little incredulously. Martin ignored that, saluting him cheerfully with his mug and throwing back the long-cold remains of his coffee with only a faint grimace. Horrible stuff, but better than nothing, and at least he was starting to wake up properly now. Enough to get out into the rest of the ship and ... do something. Fight someone. It was apparently the day for it.

"If you'll excuse me, my boy," he said, climbing carefully to his feet and only swaying a little bit. "I'll leave you to your breakfast. I have to go ... pick a fight with Captain Hunter, I think. Get him to give us all the day off. Or myself, at the very least. I rather strongly suspect that I will be good for exactly nothing today. Have a good morning, hmm? Don't do anything horrifying until I'm happily unconscious."

He patted Jefferson on the shoulder, ignored his incredulous expression, and made his way out of the galley and back out into the ship proper. Jefferson watched him go the whole way. Martin could feel it, inside his head and out.

"... And a very good morning to you too," the young man muttered finally, and Martin curled one hand across his smile as he left.


End file.
